Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own "The Outsiders" or any of the Curtis' Gang. Sigh. The real owner of "The Outsiders" is my favorite author, the fabulous S.E. Hinton. I also do not make a profit from the stories that I write here on this site.

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Sodapop's POV

Darry sat with Pony in his room for the whole time I was cooking my orange potatoes and green chicken.

I called for him when it was done, but he still wasn't feeling 100% and told me he wasn't hungry. I just decided that I would eat in Ponyboy's quiet room.

"Your going to get sick too, Soda," Darry warned me. I just smiled.

"It's only always two, right?" I reminded him. I figured if Pony and Darry were already sick then I was safe.

He just laughed at me and shook his head.

X

I was watching TV when I heard the bed squeak. I could hear Ponyboy stumbling and then he started to retch. I heard the bed squeak as I got up to comfort him while he continued to get sick.

He didn't even seem to notice me as I came in and started to rub his sweaty back. When he finished I heard him groan softly, looking miserable. He coughed lightly before flopping back down onto the bed and quickly falling back asleep.

X

Darry needed to stop worrying. He was going to kill himself. He was making his and my hair turn grey.

He had started to get better, but all this worrying was making him get sick again and Pony wasn't much better. He had gotten himself sick by worrying and we couldn't afford to have both Darry and I take off work, so I was going to have to have Two-Bit or somebody babysit Ponyboy.

I was stressing myself out thinking about people stressing themselves out.

Am I the only sane one in this house? Or are we all insane?

Ponyboy's POV

I heard somebody, who I was guessing by the sound of it was Darry, sneeze in the living room which jolted me out of my light sleep. My head pounded and my throat was burning.

I shakily got to my feet, but my vision was swirling. I was struggling to remain on my feet and swaying, but I was able to use the wall for support.

When the a black spots left my vision I trudged into the living room.

"Hey, Ponyboy," Soda greeted. I sneezed thickly and managed a stuffy greeting.

"You feeling any better?" Soda asked, doubt lacing his voice. Normally I would say yeah, but I felt awful. I laid down in the couch next to him.

"No," I moaned, my voice barely a whisper. I really hoped that I wouldn't loose my voice.

"Where's Darry?" I croaked. Soda sighed softly, stroking my hair.

"He's in bed, not feeling well," Soda told me.

"Did he go on his own?" I asked. If Darry was easy for Soda, but difficult for me I was going to be very angry, but Soda just snorted.

"No." Soda told me.

"Oh," I mumbled. I started to cough painfully into my shirt sleeve. The coughs shook my brain and I longed for some aspirins.

"You can go to sleep if you want," Soda informed me. I wanted to say thanks, but Soda moved my head into his lap and the warmth of his lap and the tiredness that my cold was giving me made the lull of sleep to difficult to fight.

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